The ghost you can't fight
by OliviaH123
Summary: Lucy's gone now, and Lockwood's faced with the fact that there are some types of ghosts you can't fight. Or Lucy left the company and Lockwood just really needs to know why. *Takes place after THB, spoilers through the third book. Not canon compliant.*


**Hello… Yeah, I'm talking to you. Honestly! Why does everyone always look so surprised?! Anyway, just a reminder that all rights go to Jonathon Stroud. I don't own the Characters or settings. Just the feels. ;) Also, reviews are welcome! Just be nice. :)**

If there was one thing that could be said for Anthony. J. Lockwood, leader of Lockwood and Co, it was that feelings and words weren't really his forte. Sure, he could give a rousing speech with the best of them, but that only came with the territory of dark nights, cold that permeated your bones, and fear that froze your muscles and sent your heartbeat to your throat.

It was less about words and more about courage.

Yeah, he could make a witty quip to Lucy, or rib George about his rather disgusting habits, but that was honestly just reflex. Anyone who took a moment to even _look_ at George would do the same.

It wasn't any kind of real victory.

Words... were a risky business for Anthony. He could never seem to get them out the way he wanted. Especially, _especially_ , when they concerned personal matters. It was for this reason that he never shared anything about his past with his teammates. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ them to know more about him, it was just that his family was such an important part of who he was that he didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself if he butchered that memory with _words._

So he said nothing.

Anthony found that the hardest words he ever had to say were goodbye. He wasn't particularly good at saying it either. Goodbye was just too personal and heartfelt. He wasn't entirely sure how to be either of those things. Unfortunately, Anthony's life had called for more goodbyes than he cared to think about.

The first goodbye he could recall was his parents.

He briefly remembered his own tear-stained face and dirty clothes. A smooth hand intertwined with his own as his sister and he attended a small quiet funeral, and two ornate and beautifully decorated coffins being lowered into the dirt as he struggled to find the words he desperately wanted to say before it was too late. It wasn't until much later that he had the strength to manage a goodbye for them. When the pain was less intense and the emotional distance a little bit more secure.

The second goodbye was his sister.

He had been angry with her that day. He remembered impatience and a need for action. 'No, he _didn't_ fancy searching through boxes of old artifacts, thank you very much, he just wanted to play.' He distantly thought there had been a flash of light and one terrified scream that made him run pell-mell to the house as quick as he could. By the time he got there, it was too late to say much of anything. Yes, he said many things to Jessica's passive spirit, sitting alone in the cold room that used to bring him such happy memories, but not goodbye. Not yet.

The others weren't all that memorable.

He saw many death's working for Gravedigger Skyes, not least the man himself. It was just a part of the business. You put children on the front lines, and you can expect that they won't all make it out alive. That's just the way of the world. He learned to accept it eventually, and he stopped saying anything when he did.

This goodbye was different.

This time he wasn't weighed down by the pain of death, or accompanied by guilt as he spread iron filings over a fresh death glow. This time the weight came from carrying heavy duffel bags on his shoulders, and the guilt spread through him with the knowledge that whatever reason Lucy had for leaving was somehow his fault. His heart clenched and his voice cracked as he loaded her things into the cab and hugged her goodbye. Not trusting himself to say anything in reply when she said farewell, the dreaded word coming from her lips soft but painful. This goodbye, while seemingly different, felt just as permanent, and the ever elusive words had never been harder for him to find.

It wasn't until she was already gone that he suddenly found what he wanted to say.


End file.
